


Plus Jamais

by nerdypipsqueak



Series: Fictober 2020 [7]
Category: Lawrence of Arabia (1962), Real Person Fiction
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:54:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27184825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdypipsqueak/pseuds/nerdypipsqueak
Summary: Fictober prompt: I'm not doing that again.Three short scenes in which Ned regrets doing something.
Relationships: T. E. Lawrence/Omar Sharif
Series: Fictober 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1970629
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Plus Jamais

**Author's Note:**

> A great big thank you to Christina Marie for helping me out with this one!

This is the perfect afternoon. We don't have to be anywhere or work on anything. We can just curl up together by the fireplace and relax. Ned's got one foot wedged between my ankles and a book propped on his knee. We've been buying a lot of books recently: history, art, politics, biographies, anything that can help him learn his place in what is a new and unfamiliar world to him.

All of a sudden Ned slams the book shut, startling me, and tosses it into the fireplace.

"What was that about?!" 

"Forgive me. I just couldn't carry on. That wretched thing..."

"Which one was it?"

"The Aldington. Never again."

"That bad?"

"He tried to use the circumstances of my birth to discredit me, which is absolutely ridiculous. I was quite open about it, all my friends knew. And... and he said some rather nasty things about..."

I reach out and take Ned's hands in mine. They're trembling slightly. Only one thing in the world makes upsets him so. "I know you're telling the truth. What Aldington thinks doesn't matter. I know you're telling the truth and I love you."

"Never again. I don't want to see that vile book ever again." 

"Absolutely. Never again." I pull him into my arms. 

It feels odd to be returning to Moreton with Ned by my side. I haven't been to visit his grave since he decided to stay with me, I didn't feel the need to do that. What's the point if I have the real deal within arm's reach?!

I'm not happy about this trip, I don't think it's safe. There may still be people who remember Ned living in the area, someone might recognise him, start asking difficult questions. God knows what might happen.

Clouds Hill looks just like it did when I last crossed the mist. Well, almost. Some of the trees have been cut down and there is a group of tourists strolling around, waiting to be admitted inside.

"What is going on here?" Ned whispers, eyes wide with horror.

"Your cottage is a museum now." I explain. He looks distraught; I want nothing more than to wrap my arms around him, comfort him.

"A museum? Does that mean I have to pay a fee to enter my own home?"

"Yes, it belongs to the Crown now."

"Then it is no longer my home. Can we please go now? I have no desire to stay here any minute longer."

If Dorset was bad then Yorkshire is terrible. It seems to be raining constantly, this annoying cold drizzle, and the smoke from all the factories tints everything grey. Ned's been in a foul mood since Clouds Hill, eating little, sleeping all night and all day, then not sleeping at all, only occasionally sending my assistant out on errands.

He wants to see his youngest brother now and, as much as I hate saying that, I think it's a very bad idea. The poor man is convinced his brother had died years ago in a motorcycle accident (which is one hell of a coverup for a disappearance). He'll probably have a heart attack if he learns the truth.

I'm starting to worry. Ned has sacrificed a lot to be with me. He can't make himself known to his remaining friends and family, he has to rely on me to support him and help him navigate the world. He might be starting to regret his choice.

My assistant, silent as a mouse, slips into the hotel room, hands Ned a piece of paper and leaves. He glances at it, then darts out of his armchair and heads for the door.

"Where are you going?!" Immediately I'm on my feet too. He's really fast when he wants to be and although I have the advantage of longer legs I am struggling to keep up.

"To see Arnie."

"And you think that's a good idea?!"

"He's my brother."

"I know he is and I know you feel lonely but... Habibi, your brother thinks you're dead."

"Yes, I wonder how that came to be." Ned mutters darkly. He slows down but only to grab an umbrella, next thing I know we're out in the icy drizzle. "It must have taken a great deal of effort to convince him, all our friends and the public that I was deceased. Churchill would never have agreed to something like that and I doubt that Storrs would."

"Storrs wrote about seeing your body in its coffin before the funeral."

"I wonder what it was that he saw then. A corpse disguised to resemble me? A wax figure?"

"An exhumation is one lawsuit away." I suggest, thanking God that we had the wherewithal to start this conversation in Arabic instead of English.

"What a wonderful idea!" Ned turns around and starts walking backwards. "A dead man is going to petition the courts to have his own grave opened to prove he is not dead."

"If you want to make yourself known to the public that would be the best way to start."

"Omar, I've spent years trying to hide from the public. Why would I- oh!" Ned, still walking backwards, hits a passer by, an elderly man in a brown raincoat, with his shoulder. "Oh my! I am so sorry!"

"Maybe you should consider facing the direction in which you're heading. It does help a lot" The man says, smiling lightly. I know that smile, I see it sometimes on Ned. In fact, I could easily have mistaken this man for Ned, a taller, much older Ned with a receding hairline.

"Excellent point. Once again I sincerely apologise..." Ned turns and promptly loses his train of thought. He has noticed the resemblance, I'm sure of that. 

And so has the other man.

"Young man," He picks his words slowly, carefully. "Forgive me for saying this but you look a lot like my late brother."

"Well... if you are who I think you are then I get that a lot."

"I suppose we all have our doppelgangers out there. My brother went through a great deal of hardship, more than most men go through in their lifetimes. I hope life treats you kindly."

"Thank you." Ned tries to smile but I can see his eyes filling with tears."

"And I know you." The man turns to me. "You were in that horrific film about my brother."

"I am very sorry but I did not have any input regarding the script."

"Oh, don't be silly! I know it's not your fault. I think you were the highlight of the whole damned thing. Now if you will excuse me, gentlemen, I have a bus to catch." 

"Goodbye, Arnie." Ned whispers as the man brushes past us and disappears behind the nearest street corner.

We walk back to the hotel in complete silence. Ned runs himself a bath and stays in it for ages. He doesn't come down to dinner with me and shakes his head when I offer to have food sent up for him. He sits by the window and watches the rain, still and silent like a marble statue. I have to coax him to come to bed (alright, two single beds pushed together).

"I was going to check on Arthur Russell as well." He tells me as we settle underneath the blankets. "But after today... I don't think I can take it. I won't be checking in on anyone else. Never again. Let them be. Let them live in peace."


End file.
